


Golden Warmups

by kennykota



Series: The Golden Age of Lovers [1]
Category: Ring of Honor, 新日本プロレス | New Japan Pro-Wrestling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Fluff and Smut, Humiliation, Light BDSM, M/M, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 22:08:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14482215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kennykota/pseuds/kennykota
Summary: Inspired by a tumblr anon wondering how I think the Golden Lovers' pre-match workout/warmup routines go. This is just an idea.Or, Kenny can't quite control his thoughts around Kota, especially not when they're working out before a big match. But Kota doesn't take orders, just opportunities to torture Kenny until he can't take it any longer.





	Golden Warmups

Kota and I haven’t wrestled a match together in 17 days. That doesn’t sound like a long time, but it feels it – ever since we got back together, both as a tag team and _otherwise_ , we’ve been spending every waking moment together, practicing, training, being ourselves, finding the rhythm we used to have again, and just enjoying each other. Nothing compares however, to the adrenaline we both feel when we step out to crowds cheering our names, holding handmade Golden Lovers signs, clapping and on their feet to welcome us home night after night. It’s been a long near three weeks without a live audience to wrestle in front of, but luckily that all changes tomorrow. I can hardly sleep with excitement.

“Kenny,” I meet Kota’s eye as I toss and turn onto my other side for maybe the fourth time in as many minutes, and I jump, not realising that I’ve woken him up with my restless movements and over-ticking brain. “Get some sleep.”

“Sorry,” I sigh. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“Are you nervous or something?”

“Nervous? Completely the opposite. I can’t wait.”

“We have a long day tomorrow. Long warm up training session, like we agreed,” he reminds me. “It’s a big one for us, which is why you need your rest.”

Kota says one thing and I hear another – sure, what he’s saying makes complete sense, but I sort of get lost in his voice whenever he speaks. He’s got hands down the most attractive voice I’ve ever heard, if that’s even a thing – low and deep, he speaks with intensity, and I put it down to human nature that I can’t quite pay attention to the meaning of his words when he’s sharing my bed, half naked and looking at me with those stern but loving eyes. I can’t help but wish he were saying things a little more on the rated-R side.

That look I just mentioned gets even sterner as my own gaze trails down from his face to his broad, muscular shoulders, the arm that’s folded over the duvet, and then back to what I can see of his chest. Again, I don’t think I can entirely blame myself for the fact that I subconsciously lick my bottom lip. Tomorrow is going to be a long day of training followed by travel and a match, and today was a long day of training – this in between time is all we have to chill out, and unfortunately, I know only one way that I’m going to be able to do that.

“Not in a million years, Kenny-tan. I know what you’re thinking,” he raises his eyebrows at me, a playful expression flashing across his face. “You’ll wear yourself out. You always do.”

I don’t want to push him, even though he likes it so much when I do – I know he has a point. “But Kota,” I whine a little. Just for fun.

“Be good,” he tells me, reaching over to me to plant a quick kiss onto my lips. “You have the rest of your life to be a little bitch and try and get your way with me. Maybe you’ll deserve it for once if we get a win tomorrow.”

I shudder at his harsh tone. The bastard knows exactly what he’s doing to me.

Kota smirks, lifts his hand to my face to brush my cheek in affection – though it comes across as patronising – and then turns over to get back to sleep. And he really doesn’t stir for the rest of the night, deadly serious and stubborn as always.

He definitely hears how the sheets move as I awkwardly reposition myself and slowly reach into my pants to take care of myself so I can drift off peacefully, but he barely tenses up, not even as I start to pant and shake and quietly moan his name as I picture his mouth on my cock instead of my own hand. That somehow makes it hotter.

Kota doesn’t comment on it at all the next morning, but I can tell he’s up to something – he’s a bit short with me, in a way that I know isn’t serious, I haven’t offended or actually annoyed him, but I can tell he wants me to think I have. I don’t know how he expects to keep this up all day, through a damn live show in which we both respectively wear tight pants and shorts – maybe he just wants to drive me to needing to get off backstage in the showers or something before we go out, which would be so inappropriate, and exactly the kind of control over me that he gets off on.

We go to our usual training space together – it’s where I’m inclined to believe Kota has spent at least 50% of his life, and me now, too, since he’s invited me in. It’s always just us two. It’s perfect for what we need, weights and gym equipment set up in one area, a true to life sized wrestling ring in another, and a small changing and shower room, all completely private. It’s a privilege to have that kind of space to work uninterrupted.

Of course, my own thoughts are what interrupt me throughout our training regime. At one point, when I need to grab his wrist, I tug a little tighter than usual at it, and he knows exactly what I’m trying to get at. “First of all, that’s my job,” he reminds me of my place. “And second, please focus.”

“What do you mean, focus?” I can’t keep that same whine I put on last night out of my voice. “We had a match literally last month to determine who was the best tag team on earth, and we won. I think we can afford ten minutes off.”

“Stick to our schedule, Kenny. You really lack focus. It’s not cute.”

I can focus most of the time, to be fair to myself – when we practice our signature moves, our jumps, our saults and our double-teaming, I’m completely in the zone. When we practice our own moves on each other and on dummies, I’m focused.

However, when we’re working out, stretching, that’s when my eyes wander again. My boyfriend knows this, he catches me looking during our warm-down session. He makes a big song and dance of removing his shirt (a white Golden Lovers shirt I’ll have you know, because it makes my heart so warm when he wears our merchandise, like he’s as proud to be with me as I am to be with him), in slow motion, he flexes and stretches and pulls up the shirt over his ridiculously muscular back, which I’m fixated on. I love his back, and he knows it.

“Fuck you,” I mutter to myself as he continues to stretch, bending over onto all fours, clearly just to piss me off. It works. If he heard me, then he continues to go about his business, ignoring me. Eventually my muscles hurt from trying to keep up with his strenuous and long-winded warm down routine, and I feel so borderline attacked by how he shows off in front of me, just trying to get at me, that I wordlessly jump back up onto my feet and stalk out to the changing room. I’m riled up in all the best ways possible, but there is a niggling feeling of real anger in my chest, because we don’t have long and I’m going to need a heck of a cold shower. I feel so pathetic and embarrassed that I can’t control myself, he pushes my buttons just slightly and I’m gone for him, every damn time.

I’m not sat on the bench five minutes, towel around my neck to soak up the sweat, gulping down an energy drink when I hear him follow my footsteps. He’s still shirtless, standing tall above me and looking down into my face, a smirk forming on his. I want to keep my expression hard, but I know my eyes light up.

“Presumptuous, much?” Kota knows the exact tone to use, the exact way to raise his eyebrows that will make me visibly shudder right there. Then, before I know it, he’s on top of me, and I feel my cock press against my pants with urgency as he straddles me. Finally, his skin against mine, and in the best kind of way – he grabs my neck with one hand and pushes my head back to the wall, until I start to choke, and then he lets go, laughing to himself. “Oh, Kenny,” he presses his lips against my neck and quick as a flash bites, hard. “You’ve been such a little bitch today.”

“I’m sorry,” I feel myself flush. “I’m so sorry, sir.”

“You will be,” he scoffs. “On the floor. _On the floor, Kenny_.”

I follow his commands until I’m in the position he wants me, on all fours with him kneeling behind me. “You be quiet,” he whispers as he grabs the waistband of my pants and pulls them down over my ass. “As quiet as you would be if there were people over in the next room. Like the old days. Remember?”

Back when we actually had to sneak around, when we didn’t see each other as often as we do now, when people didn’t know that we were together in real life as well as on TV. Back in the first months that we knew each other. I don’t have to try hard to put myself back in that place – I was so in love with him, so obsessed with him, so desperate for him, and that feeling never went away. In fact, it returned tenfold when he came back into my life.

“I have nothing with me to gag you with,” he continues. “You’re going to have to be extra good. I promise it’ll be worth it.”

“It always is.”

“I said _quiet_ ,” he snaps. “Nod if you understand what I’m saying.”

Fucking hell, he’s not playing games today. I can feel the familiar heat rushing to my already throbbing cock, and I don’t know how long I’ll last once he gets his hands on me, if his words are already getting me in such a state. I nod as he asked. It elicits a low chuckle from him. “That’s my baby boy.”

I don’t expect the first strike but manage to bite my tongue to stop myself swearing or moaning as his hand hits the back of my thigh, hard. As quick as that one came, another does, this time on my ass.  I lean all my weight onto my arms, writhing in pain, the best kind of rush, as Kota hits me over, and over again. So much for not wanting me to be in pain during our match later.

“That’s what you get for being demanding,” he finally stops after what feels like minutes later, his fingers now caressing the spots on my skin where it feels especially raw. I wince. “And for being so whiny,” he spanks me one last time, and I can’t keep it in any longer.

“ _Kota_ ,” I whimper.

“Stand up,” he practically spits the words at me. “Stand up and get over to the wall, now.”

I do as I’m told while Kota turns his attention to something on the other side of the room – his bag I think - and as I lean against the cold plaster I try to let my hand slide between the wall and my cock, in case I can get away with slyly touching myself to relieve some of the pressure that’s been building to the point of pain. Kota always drags it out so long, so far, and I fucking love it, but he knows my body can’t take it.

He’s not that stupid though. “Hands behind your back, Kenny-tan,” he sounds patronising again, and it’s so damn hot that I happily oblige. He’s behind me again, grabs my hands and ties them together with what feels like a standard length of rope. Does he really carry that around with him wherever he goes, just in his fucking gym bag? He ties it tight to the point where I know my involuntary writhing will cause rope burn. It’s intentional, of course, because Kota gets off on nothing more than marking me. Hand prints on my ass, rope burn on my wrists, and in his mind we’re probably just getting started.

He doesn’t give me much warning. I hear the faint squirt of a bottle of lube, which is as much anticipation as I can work up before I feel Kota press two fingers inside me. I can’t help the noise I make, my mouth remains closed but my throat still manages to produce a low moan and I feel them move deeper in and then out of me, picking up a rapid pace. “Quiet,” he reminds me. “You’re going to have to take a lot more of this, and I won’t go easy on you if you keep making those sounds.”

I decide to act up and moan again, because I don’t want him to go easy on me. This angers him like I thought it would, and he grabs me and pushes me against the wall again, hard, the side of my face smashing into it, at the same time as he further stretches me with three fingers this time. “If you can’t take this, just you wait for my dick,” he leans over my shoulder and breathes into my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. “You look so pathetic right now. It makes me so hard.”

“I-I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry, Kenny-tan? You wanna whisper?”

I can feel the sweat building on my forehead as he speaks, so sensually, while at the same time making sure he doesn’t lose pace, his fingers slipping in and out of my ass. “Don’t wanna be pathetic.”

“But you are. You’re always pathetic for me, because you’re nothing but a slut for me. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, sir,” I whimper. “That’s bad?”

“I don’t think so,” Kota says softly, before slapping me across the face, hard. The sting and suddenness of it brings tears to my eyes. “You’re so fucking cute.”

He pushes me back down to my knees, my hands still firmly tied behind my back. He kneels down too, and presses his cock against my ass. I manage to look behind me just for a second, to see his shorts long discarded across the room, a condom wrapper and open bottle of lube strewn on the floor also.

“Eyes forward,” he tells me, and simultaneously thrusts his cock inside me. I know to be quiet, and I don’t know how I manage it, but I taste blood as I bite down hard on my own lip. Fuck, I think to myself. I just want to scream his name. He’s got me in such a helpless position, all to himself, unable to move an inch, all I can do is bite my tongue and take it. And I do, thrust after thrust, up until he’s panting, whimpering a little himself – he must be close, it sounds beautiful, and I want nothing more than for him to cum inside of me, relieve himself, but his self-control prevails. He stops, grabs my hands, and easily undoes his tight knot to free me. “There you go, sweetie,” he whispers.

“Hm?” I chance the noise, looking back at him again.

“What do you want, huh? You can tell me. Use your pretty little voice.”

“Uhm… I…,”

“Don’t be embarrassed, Kenny-tan.”

“I want you… I want you to cum on me,” I say, quietly, because I am embarrassed, I always feel embarrassed when he makes me speak aloud, tell him the things that I’m thinking.

“Yeah? Where?”

“Uhm…,”

“Your ass? All over your chest? Your mouth? Your face?”

“Yeah,” I say, stumped. He just laughs.

“Lie down, Ken. On your back.”

I listen, turning over onto my back, wincing as my ass touches the floor, damn he really fucked me up – then he stands above me, looking down into my eyes with a glimmer in his. I look at his crotch, his hand over his cock, and he starts to get himself off, slow at first, but even Kota can’t keep an act like that up forever, I can tell he’s desperate to cum, with every stroke his moans intensify, and I just stay lying there, watching him, as he edges closer to his breaking point, and then finally my name spills out of his mouth, “Kenny, Kenny, _Kenny_ ,” and I instinctively open my mouth as he cums, across my face, my chest, even my thighs, every last drop onto my body. We keep our eyes locked the entire time. I’m panting almost as much as he is, I see his legs shaking and I reach up to him, grabbing his hands and pulling him down to me. He collapses half beside and half on top of me, whimpering, giggling, and I giggle too – I’m so turned on but he’s so damn cute, and what gets me off more than anything is him getting off the way he likes it best, complete dominance and control over me, his favourite boy.

“I love you,” I tell him, and he pulls me in for a kiss. He can sure taste his own cum as we make out, his tongue tracing my lips and licking across my chin at times, and that thought just drives me insane. I grab his hair to pull him in closer, and he grabs mine, yanking a fistful so that I groan his name into his mouth from the pain.

“Fuck, Kenny,” he breathes in between kisses. “I love you, too,” he finally concedes. “I love you so fucking much.”

“I think we should get cleaned up,” I rub my nose against his. “We don’t have long.”

“Yeah, you get into the shower,” he muses, after a pause. “I’ll be right in.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Really, now?”

“You don’t think I’m that selfish, do you?” He glances down at my erect cock, licking his lips. Probably on purpose as opposed to my constant, embarrassing subconscious incidents of that. “Is it okay if I wanna taste you, pretty baby?”    

“I don’t think I’d be opposed.”

**Author's Note:**

> There is definitely more where this came from but I'm very new (well, returning very recently) to writing smut so definitely let me know if you enjoyed so I can make more GL content for y'all.


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